MADARA: Master of Middle Management
by the knave of hearts
Summary: In which Uchiha Madara, armed with his trusty personal assistant, attempts to save his position as the head of Konoha Corporation's middle management. AU, CRACK, and vague Uchihacest. PART TWO OF TWO UP! COMPLETE.
1. Mediocre Talking Box

AN: There are no words for this. I wasn't high or sick or anything else. I just wrote it. As a matter of fact, it's going to be three parts of things I _just wrote. _Be warned.

WARNINGS: obscure references, OOC, and italics abuse. Kind-of/sort-of/eventually Uchihacest.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Naruto, Lilo and Stitch, TPS reports, Party City, or Xena: warrior princess.

**()()()()()()()()()**

Despite popular belief, Uchiha Madara was a very sensitive man. So sensitive, in fact, that he cried that one time while watching Lilo and Stitch. All right, so it because he had rubbed his eyes after eating salty popcorn, but the point still remains. He was a man with _feelings_.

And now, he was once again being treated callously by his _superiors_—who, he'd like to clarify, were only superior in the chain of command. He was still seething inside over the conversation he'd had with the president and CEO of the Konoha Corporation.

"_Madara, computers are useful. We are not trying to replace you; we're just trying to make your life easier."_

_Madara glared at the president and CEO of Konoha Corporation, Senju Hashirama, deciding that it was a good time to test whether or not a person could spontaneously combust from the force of the intense hatred radiating from his eyes._

"_And stop glaring at me like that. It's not going to make me spontansouly combust."_

_Biting down curses—'He's reading my mind; I know it!'—the head of the Uchiha family replied: "That mediocre talking box will not make my life or my job easier. I refuse to use it."_

"_If you don't use the computer then you won't be able to submit your TPS report_(1)_. __**You do not want to not submit your TPS report.**__"_

"_I don't want to submit a TPS report at all, actually."_

Yeah, that'd been a terrible, trauma-inducing conversation. He was glad it was over.

Pressing the call button taped to his desk—the junior management team was always trying to steal it—he felt an expression of malicious glee spread across his face. He knew _exactly _how to handle this 'talking box'.

"Itachi," he shouted, realizing that the younger man wasn't replying, "I'm pressing my call button."

"And?" He heard Itachi's familiar drawl sound from the room next his.

"And you're supposed to _respond._ I might need something." The call button lit up and static sounded on the other end.

"Better?"

"Yes," Madara nodded. "Now come in here." After a long moment of static and muffled cursing, the call channel switched off, and the office door swung upon to the stoic—yet somehow still agitated—face of his nephew, Uchiha Itachi.

"What," the younger man ground out, "do you need?"

"Come in and shut the door," Madara commanded, leaning forward over his desk in what he was sure was a malevolent way. "I have a plan."

And indeed he did.

**()()()()()()()()()**

After explaining to his minion the necessity of ridding the world of technology—_"Don't you see? If this continues, no one will need middle management anymore! I don't want to find a new job!"_

"_Uncle, you're rich. You don't need a job, period."_—Madara discovered the first wrench in his plans.

"A _Halloween party_?" He gaped incredulously at the email Itachi had printed out. "With _costumes?_"

"This is an annual even, Uncle. You've participated in it every year since the founding of the company _two decades ago._"

"I know, but no one's ever sent me a memo! They usually show up in my office with a Mai Tai and a black cape and dub me Dracula for the night."

"Of course," Itachi pursed his lips in displeasure, "Why would anyone expect the head of middle management to actually do anything on his own."

"Of course," Madara sighed. Itachi took a calming breath. If he killed his boss, he wouldn't get his paycheck this week, which he desperately needed. He still hadn't paid off that rental speedboat he and Kisame had destroyed while reenacting scenes from various James Bond movies.

"I suppose we'll have to fit this in to the plan, then." He glanced down at the memo. "It's tonight. We need costumes. _Awe-inspiring costumes._"

**()()()()()()()()()**

After a trip to the nearest party city—"No, I do not want to be a 'sexy bo peep'. I'm going for fearsome, not erotic."—Madara found himself back in his office a mere hour before the party began, standing before his personal assistant.

"I've got the costumes."

"Really? How thrilling. Do you need a drum-roll, or are you going to show them to me?"

"No, you aren't very good at drum-rolls," Madara grimaced, thinking back to last year's Christmas party. Itachi rolled his eyes, muttering darkly.

"Why couldn't you have died in a car accident?"

"Because I have a Hummer. They may have terrible gas mileage and no real redeeming qualities, but if I ever get into an accident, I'd be a-okay."

"Fabulous."

"Isn't it?" Madara rummaged through the large bag containing his purchases, pulling out the first costume. "This is yours. I wasn't sure what to get you at first, but this one really stuck out."

Itachi stared. "Is that a 'Xena: the warrior princess' costume?"

Madara nodded. "Xena always gets her man."

"Wasn't she a lesbian?"

"Of course not," the elder Uchiha scoffed. "Those are just lies created by the media."

Itachi wondered if not receiving his paycheck was such a bad thing.

**()()()()()()()()()**

AN: There you have it, part one of three. Yeah.

(1) – A TPS report is used to electronically report financial activity for banks and businesses.


	2. Monkey? There is no monkey

AN: All right, so, I'm a moron and didn't post this anywhere but y!gallery after it was finished. Sorry. 8| But this is the last part! I got lazy and cut it don to two parts instead of three.

**WARNINGS**: Madara being a creeper, Uchihacest, crossdressing, and commercial auditors.

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters, Armani suits, or Xena: Warrior Princess, and since I have less than thirty dollars in my savings and checking account combined, it can safely be said that I don't make money from doing this.

As a side note, this--just like everything else I put on FFN--is NOT beta'd. If you see any mistakes or typos or whatever, lease point them out as I am a lazy summabitch and would not otherwise catch them. Much obliged.

**

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**

Itachi wondered sometimes if he had done something truly awful in a past life.

". . . and I'm going to go as a Commercial Auditor! Nothing makes businessmen quake in their Armani suits as much as the looming threat of an external audit (1)!"

He was probably Hitler, or something. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Itachi!"

"Yes, Uncle?" The younger man drawled, sweat gathering on the back of his neck at the manic look in his uncle's eyes.

"You haven't put on your costume, Nephew."

"No," Itachi said slowly, taking backwards steps toward the door.

The door that was suddenly shut. Feeling somewhat like a mouse at the hands of a psychotic maid, Itachi looked back at his uncle, eyes wide.

"Now, now, Itachi, there's no reason to look so unhappy." The older man took a step forward, grabbing the flimsy Xena costume off his desk as he went. "I'm sure you'll look ravishing. Hashirama's monkey has nothing on you!"

"I can't understand why you call Namikaze-san a monkey; the man is a higher rank than you," Itachi muttered, blocking out the feel of his uncle pressing the costume against him and smoothing it out, an eerily psychotic grin plastered on his handsome face. "Stop looking at me like that! I'll put the damn thing on! Just go away!"

Madara nodded. "I'll just go change," he pointed at the small supply closet that he liked to store all the things he stole from the company monkey, "in there. You just let me know when you're done."

The closet clicked shut quietly—"Where the fuck did that plunger come from? Shit, it's touching me!"— leaving Itachi alone in the cramped office to change.  
Glancing around uneasily, he quickly stripped down and pulled on the skimpy outfit. Thank god he had shaved his legs the night before. It left nothing to the imagination.

….but the boots were nice.

"You can come out, Uncle."

"I've been out for years, Itachi! I thought you knew!"

"I meant out of the closet," he growled.

"…So did I!"

"Get out here. Now."

Madara opened the door and slid out, a stray piece of tissue stuck to his shoes. He grinned maniacally. "Itachi, you look splendid!" He wrapped an arm around the young man's waist. "Perfect enough to be my date!"

"…No."

**

* * *

  
**

He ended up being the date.

"Now, Itachi," Madara whispered conspiratorially as they walked into the dining hall where the Halloween party was being held, "act natural. Remember the plan."

"You want me to seduce Senju-sama so you can steal his software." He ground out.

"Well, no!" Madara blinked. "I'm going to steal his computer! I'd hardly call that soft."

Itachi shook his head sharply. "Just—just shut up."

Madara was about to open his mouth when someone began speaking to them. "Itachi-kun! And Madara! It's good to see you here sober for once!"

"Monkey," Madara hissed under his breath.

"What's that?"

Itachi smacked the back of his uncle's head. "Ignore him."

"Xena!" Madara whined. "You're supposed to fight evil. Not me!"

"You are synonymous to evil, Uncle."

**

* * *

  
**

In the end, the plan was carried out just as Madara wished. Itachi sashayed around Hashirama for a while, a bored look on his face, until the 'dignified' CEO spilled his Cosmo all over the front of the Xena costume and demanded that Itachi come with him to clean it up.

They were seen coming out of a closet on the third floor together the next morning.

Madara snuck off sneakily and proceeded to steal the power cords to all the computers and electrical devices on the top ten floors. He was dragging the large grocery cart that he'd commandeered from the Monkey's office full of power cords down to the elevator when he ran into someone most unexpected.

"Uncle?"

"….Did you shrink, Itachi?"

"No," the boy said, flustered, "it's me, Sasuke. Are," the boy looked considerably more nervous when he noticed the cart. "are you all right?"

"Hm?" Madara stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, yes. But tell me, Sassy—"

"Sasuke!"

"Yes—but tell me, Sassy, how do I look?"

The boy gave him a critical look, walking around him in a circle. "Like a Commercial Auditor, Uncle."

"My boy," Madara said, clapping a hand on the child's back, "you are smarter than anyone gives you credit for. Tell me, how do you look in women's clothing?"

And a beautiful relationship was formed.

**

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**

ITACHI: Married Senju Hashirama. Paid off boat debt.

MONKEY-NAMIKAZE: Was killed in a tragic go-cart accident. He is sorely missed.

MADARA: Was arrested the following year for taking pictures of his youngest nephew in tiny maid outfits. They disappeared shortly after.

* * *

(1) - An unbiased examination and evaluation of the financial statements of an organization. It can be done internally (by employees of the organization) or externally (by an outside firm).

AN: ….I'm sorry.


End file.
